


The moth to the flame

by Ghost_Writer



Category: Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 17:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Writer/pseuds/Ghost_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael and Ryan are a spectacular chemical reaction. And a dangerous one at that. Ryan is the flame that sets the chemical reaction alight but however beautiful the chemical reaction is, standing to close to an open flame will cause you to get burnt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ryan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan is an open flame, only satisfied with a love that is explosive. So explosive that it causes burns

When I was younger I was told never to play with firework. I could easily get burnt. I never understood how so much beauty held so much danger within.  As I grew older I realise that  I was a flame, that comboned with the right chemicals could set the world alight.

We were like fireworks me and him. When we were together we lit up the entire sky. We were like two chemicals you're not supposed to mix togheter, you stick all that shit togheter and you get something that's pretty fucking spectacular. We made the most beautiful of explosions when we were together. The way I see it, you know in the back of your mind it’s essentially just an explosion. You’re basically just blowing shit up, watching it burn. But it’s beautiful destruction. That’s how you justify it. You light the fuse, it goes bang, everything shines, it fizzles out. And you’re left with this grey smog across the darkness that makes you cough. But it was worth it. I think that’s the principle I was working off when I let myself fall in love with Michael Phelps. I was the flame Michael could't stay away from and I knew he would get burnt.

I never did well in chemistry at school, but even I could work this one out. Take two swimmers pumped up on testosterone, add in a couple of medals and a lot of booze...then stand well back and watch the explosions.

It’s funny but nothing could stop us finding each other time and time again. We were always going to be put in that situation, we were always going to end up together. Back then neither one of us had the willpower to stop coming back to eachother. We both could have written down the reasons why what we were doing was wrong. How it would end in a grey smog of darkness.

The fact I can’t even look after myself when all he needs is protecting is the reason why we didn't stand a chance. Or the fact that I never think before I speak and he always takes things too personally makes us a lethal combination. Or the fact that he lashes out at everyone without ever dealing with the problem whilst I internalises everything and attempt to cope alone. How he was terrified of the flame. I guess from that list you’d have to wonder why we loved each they way we did. But God, we loved each other no matter how damaging us being together was. I’m not sure that will ever change. We’re like those stars that explode, but you can still see their light every night, you know? That’s me and Michael.

Coz we are such a fucking double act. I love to crack jokes and he loves to laugh, and i love to watch him laugh more than anything in the world. We’re both a bit out of it at times – we both are trying fucking hard to stay away from the explosion, we had to stop once before, one of use got burnt.

He understands me though and I understand him. And I know he is not the easiest bloke to understand, but then again neither am I. He understands why I am the way I am, why I says stupid stuff or hang out with people who are fake. We’re both a little bit scared of all the things the world can and has throw at us. We’ve both dealt with it in ways that haven’t been entirely healthy, you only have to look at the things we have achieved. But for all the shouting matches and the tears, we were still something else, a one of a kind kind of thing. Something better than the life we are now pretending to live. My mistake was always looking for a high that was better than him – there is no high better than him, there is nothing and no one better than him. I mean it, we really were just...better. 

I don’t mean to sound like some condescending flowers and love-hearts kinda jerk, but I know the difference. I know what it’s like to care, i know what it is to care for him. I know how much better it is to love. Coz I still love Michael and...and back in the days when he loved me back, when he loved me with all his heart, before we damaged each other beyond repair, no before i damaged him beyond repair, we were fucking gorgeous. We got drunk and we fought and he cried and I left and he chased me and we fought and then we held each other and everything was just...magnified by how much we cared. Nothing could be small with us. We were the chemicals we weren't suppose to mix, our love was the bang that was the result. In order to shine we had to burn, and burn we did. Chemicals in a confined space – just add fire and watch it burn. The fire was my lifestyle. I made friends with the wrong people, stayed out, got lost, lost him somewhere along the way. But then again, he lost me somewhere along the way to.

We would kiss each other so forcefully it would hurt sometimes, and that just sums us up. Angrily. That’s how he would kiss me. I kinda liked it cause i knew he only kissed me with all that force, it was all the force he could muster. It wasn't filled with hate, it never was. I kinda enjoyed how he would cling to me, he needed me just as much as I needed him. It was beautiful in a twisted way. It was passion, it-was-a one-of-a-kind kind of love. We always knew it was because we loved each other that we were capable of all that force. And we both appreciated being loved like that, we both apprecieted the explosive feelings we had for eachother. We both needed the danger of knowing we could get burnt, but perhaps i needed it more.

He would still be smiling. A sad sort of a smile but a loving one. Because we both saw the sparkle in each other, the glint of what we loved about each other. Even as things were destroyed all around us, as he was being destroyed in front of me, even as I destroyed myself, we both saw each other exactly as we had in the beginning The sparkle that once was there was slowly dying out. I don’t know how he saw me, all I know is that, for some reason, he liked what he saw. No one else has since. Fuck it, even I don’t. That’s Michael though, always looking for the stars that have fallen into the gutter. As for him though? God. He was – is! – such a stunning creature. He’s not without his flaws, his faults, i knew each and every one of them. But his smile, his warmth...the way he seems to be constantly looking for an excuse to try and make everything and everyone ok even though he cant seemed to get his own life sorted. He is something that no one can really say. He’s that bit of glitter you find still stuck to your clothes months after Christmas day. And he is not for me.

In endend in a blaze befitting of the explosive love we had. We’d parted ways more than once in the eight years we were together but this was the moment, the moment he had be burnt once too often. This was the finale to our grand display, the display that was always going to left one of us, him, hurt. And we both knew it. I had been out again, been drinking and, well lets just say the burns were to bad this time. He didn't argue, he never said anything. Instead I chose to argue, to punch at walls and rant and, in a fine act of stupidity, disappear. By the time I got back he was gone. He left a note, detailing why he couldn’t cope anymore, and I was left alone in the smoke, choking.

I shouldn’t have been surprised that, when he finally cleared the smoke, he decided he’d had enough of our explosive love, he had gotten burnt once to often. Even if they were beautiful it turned out we weren't beautiful enough for him to put up with the burns.

There’s some chemicals that don’t react. Even when you throw sparks at them. Maybe my problem is that I think that concept is too fucking boring, i need that spark, i need the danger of knowing you might get burnt, i might burn someone. Maybe that’s why I’m still sitting alone in the dark whilst Michael is moving on, showing the world he is allright, showing me he found a love that doens't end in him being burnt everytime they are togheter. And it is not out of spite, no never out of spite. It is him showing me I can, should move on too.

Conor is part of the untold darkness of our story, the stabiliser to our unstable, dangerous and explosive love. Or at least, he was there too make sure the burns didn't last. He’s the medic treating all the people that got too close to the flame. He’s the guy who bandaged us up. He would listen to us in equal parts when we both decided once again we had had enough. We took it in turns to borrow his sofa, when the explosives were just to much for us to deal with. We both knew his phone number better than our own. I guess Michael knew it a little too well. God that sounds so fucking bitter.

As much as I loved him I was crap at sustaining him, I could never give him what he needed, i couldn't prevent him from being burnt. I could do passion, oh that was fine. The explosions and the sparks and the lighting up of a night’s sky I could manage. But life? The day to day? That was never me. Michael needed to be with someone else, someone who could deal with life. He needed someone who made sure he was alive whilst I thew my own life away. I could never keep him alive, I tried to keep him alive through the full force of my love for him. A counterproductive strategy cause when he loved me it tore him up completely. He was broken up almost all the time about the fact that he loved me and yet all I did was burn him.

Whoever he is with now doesn't blaze, doesn't burn. I can see it in his eyes

I’m not surprised that Michael wanted out. He is with someone who knows what it is to love without burning him, or I hope he is. He deserves that much. It’s beautiful but it’s practical. You know, built to last. There’s no bangs and no sparks. They will never paint the night’s sky a different colour not like it was when we were together. But they will glow. Michael smiles all the time now.

I never thought before I acted, I never made sure Michael was ok with the things i was about to do. I never used logic to try and understand Michael’s point of view before he contested it. I never noticed when he fell, i never seen him this relaxed. I seen them every where, I'd find what they have sweet watch the two of them all loved up if it didn't kill me, if it wasn't Michael who was this loved up.

I did everything wrong. I always did and always will.

Like I said, I am wrong. Maybe I’m just wrong for him, despite how easily we fell back into each other’s arms so many times before, how easily the moth was drawn to the flam. It turned out I was the flame that attracted Michael. But I still love him you know. And he still loves me too, I know that much. He is fighting every day not to be drawn to the flame.

It took Michael leaving for after London to realise just how dark things had become. I’d been so busy enjoying the show, my show, the attention i thought I deserved. It turned out everyone was right, I was just a fuck-up from Gainsville. But I hate proving people right. So I fixed myself, as best I could.  I went round and I tried to mend every person I had broken unintentionally, and a few I had broken with definite intent. But i never dared try to mend Michael, i knew the chemicals were still to dangerous to mix, they still had the potential to start exploding all over again. I knew a slight touch was all it would take to set the spark alight again. Because however sick it sounds no amount of pain was going to stop us from loving eachother if we let ourselves. I got myself some semblance of a life, heading into Barcelona, were I was going to stop burning the people I loved. I was still fucking scared of reality and of dealing with life but I stopped trying to avoid it and finally decided a head-on battle would be ok. It had to be better than what had gone before. 

We were something beautiful. And that’s the only way I ever want to love.


	2. Michael

When i was younger i was terrified of fireworks, terrified of being hurt, being burnt. I stayed well away from any flame. I managed to stay away from one for the first 19 years of my life. It wasn't until I met the force that was, is Ryan Lochte. He showed me how beautiful a flame can be combined with the right chemicals. And it turned out me and Ryan had the right kind of chemicals that when held to the flame that was Ryan Lochte, we set the sky on fire in colour and exposions but we both had the tendancy of causing each other scars.

Neither one of us could control the fire, the chemicals were to strong, we tried to fight it. He burnt me more than once, he never meant too, I know that but that is just who Ryan is. Everytime i got burnt I left, but it only took a matter of time before I was back. Just long enough to forget about the pain caused by the flame.  Don't think I am the good guy in the fucked up story that is our love. He put me together somehow.  But each time I ran away I was just a guilty of causing him burns and scarring. It was because of me running away i gave him the feeling that he had failed, that I thought that he didn't love me enough.

After a while I returned to him, blinded by the explosives of our love. But I always believed him when he told me he loved me, cause he did, he fucking loved me that i know. He loved me with all the love he could muster, the force of his love is unbelievable. I kept coming back to him until one day I realised we both needed some one who didn't cause so much damage.

I was damaged before I met him. The burns he caused me were only superficial compared to the other scars i beared. I was a traincrash. Caused by people I loved breaking their promises once too often but it was like the burns mended the traincrash that was me.

A long time ago I learnt that people leave, people break their promises. They leave each other behind without a second thought. I never could understand why they were so willing to break their own hearts and each other’s. My father went away. I wasn’t young when he did, I was just old enough. Old enough to learn that things were never certain, as long as the earth was turning change was always going to be there, good and bad. No one can be trusted not matter how much they love you, not even your family. When he went I learnt that people with broken hearts often just try to reassemble them,they just survive from day to day. My father left my mother behind and she cried and cursed and I don’t think she ever really forgot. But she did survive. But back then I promised myself never to let myself be in a situation in which i could get hurt. I decided I’d rather not have to cry so I learnt that ‘Goodbye’ was to be expected every time the word ‘Hello’ left someone’s lips. Hello. People should be more careful with that word. All that promise, and yet it’s rarely sincere.

I made rules, but then came Ryan. I touched the flame knowing that I would either get burnt or Ryan would leave to find an even stronger chemical or both. I always was terrified that goodbye was on his lips, i think i was more scared of goodbye than the flame i loved so much. I was torn between fear and love. 

Ryan never said ‘Hello’ to me when we first met, and I never dared say Hello to him. I remember he just smiled, so I returned the smile. And that is how we started.  In that moment i knew i could get hurt, I knew was the flame that could get me burnt. The first time we touched proved that, we were two chemicals that when mixed togheter fireworks were inevitable.

I was the moth to his flame, forgetting all the rules i had made to stop myself from getting hurt.  

Ryan and his want to keep me alive. He never could live up to that. I needed someone to keep me alive, and oh boy how he tried. Each time I got burnt and each time I left without saying goodbye I saw him die a little bit. 

Before Ryan I liked to keep my face as straight as possible. If you don’t betray anything to the world then how can the world betray you? You see, it’s good logic, have lived by it for quite a while. Although it never really made me any friends.  Although I’ve still managed to hurt and be hurt all the same. Maybe I didn’t do as good a job of teaching myself as I thought.

Still, there was a comfortable distance between me and the rest of the world. It was lonely at times but at least it was safe, i knew my heart couldn't get broken and i couldn't get burnt. I was happy there, separated from everyone. I’m quite good at keeping my own company, have done for years. And no one but Ryan has ever noticed that I’m mostly just pretending to breathe, pretending to be alive. No one but him has ever noticed that, every now and again, I’m not as content as I seem.

People mistake quietness for being ok, they think my sitting there concentrating on a race, all alone, is a sign that I am placid and alive. I am not placid. If they could hear the noise inside my head then they would know that. Sometimes I don’t think I’m alive either, not in any real sense of the word.  Because to be alive you have to live, and I try my best to avoid experiencing that agony when I am not with Ryan. I’ve got a bright enough smile to hide it though, so long as they don’t look me in the eyes. Ryan looked me in the eyes. The thing that frightened me most about that was..he didn’t see the lack of life I expected him to. No. Instead he coaxed life out. I almost felt it. Almost. And then I ran away. The truth is I am only alive when I am with Ryan, when I am being burnt by Ryan. 

Before, before Ryan, before everything, before that rush of air. Before, back when I was standing alone and watching them live, trying, quietly, to not join in, I found it a lot easier to pretend. I vanished less then. I didn’t have to vanish to believe my own lies. Before him I didn’t think there could be anything worth the risk. But now I’m not so sure. Before him I was always so sure, sure that there was nothing in the world worth getting hurt over. 

We were the only ones in the whole world that had worked out that even the earth we were stood on was changing. Shifting constantly. Everything shifting, turning. I thought that was the only explanation for what I saw in his eyes the first time we met. The recognition there was just relief, excitement at the discovery of someone else so grounded in the truth of it all. The realisation that there was someone else in this world who wanted to be burnt so bad we never wanted to go back again.  We had both learnt never to expect any other outcome than us getting hurt by our fireworks. He was willing to try to give me what i needed, but he couldn't no matter how hard he tried. That, that was why I left the first time but never told him I was going. I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye because i know how much that word hurts.

We' ve made mistakes, that much I know. I am just as guilty as he his.  I knew what could happen when I handed over more of myself to him than I have ever handed over to anyone in my life. It’s not because of who I am, it’s because of who he is. When  I am with him I am someone more like who I was once before, a long time ago, before I stopped letting life touch me. But no matter how much he brought me to life he couldn't keep me alive. He tried and every time he failed he died a little bit inside. 

So i left, one last time. Found someone else. Someone who doesn't burn me, who keeps me alive but just barely. I didn't want to see the hurt in his eyes everytime he failed at trying to give me what I needed. His life and my life were two chemicals you shouldn't mix. We have the scars to prove that. I showed him he should move on, cause i had moved on, or so i hoped. I hope he did. 

But in the end, now that i know what it feels like to be kept alive even if it is just superficial, i miss the burn.  He tried, how he tried. His love for me was a fire that will never go out.  Funny really how we always want what is bad for us - Ryan is the flame that keeps me alive, however sick and twisted it sounds. Knowing he tries, knowing that me being burnt is the result of the love we have together is worth it. I was terrified of fireworks when I met him, even more terrified of hello's. Ryan made me the moth to his flame and now I don’t know what to do. I shouldn’t believe in hello, i shouldn't believe that being burnt means I am loved. I didn’t until I met Ryan.

I saw him not so long ago, in Barcelona. He looked like the guy that smiled at me all them years ago.  He didn't want to speak to me he thought I had moved on, wanted to protect me from him.

Something in that moment, something in his eyes made me feel more alive than i had been in a long time and i knew what to.

And in that moment i forgot everything I had learnt in the past 27 years, ignored the many scars we both beared, ignored all my fears.

I went up to him and I said ''Hello'' and I started to believe it doen't always have to end in goodbye.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what i came up with. I prefer to write/read this narrative kind of stories. I know not many of these narrative stories are written on here. If there is love for this type of stories let me know and i will post the others I am working on :)
> 
>  
> 
> What would Ryan Lochte do has finally started airing in The Netherlands and I just cringed from beginning to end.


End file.
